


creature of the night

by hawky (tinypigs)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 12:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13590246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinypigs/pseuds/hawky
Summary: The lights began to darken and Sid eyed the stage. Fog curled out beneath the shut curtains and a bass line thrummed. The crowd around him, chattering before, quieted. A single red spotlight hit the curtains and they slowly parted.“Oh, fuck,” Sid muttered.





	creature of the night

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank [hockyey](http://hockyey.tumblr.com), [sevenfists](http://sevenfists.tumblr.com), and [pbandwhey](http://pbandwhey.tumblr.com) for helping me fix this fic up and just hearing me out! 
> 
> This fic is uhhh very self-indulgent. It's the longest one I've ever written so I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> I couldn't think of anything to warn about besides blood drinking, but if anyone wants anything specific tagged, let me know!
> 
> If you'd like to read this fic with a soundtrack, here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/cochonxvolant/playlist/1S6QxahC0wADUMjbj3zDJ1?si=k9Tm9xt0QiWGjSnNh0Cqmw).

Sid remembered when it all began. He was sixteen and home for the summer. There wasn’t much for him to do besides working out, practicing his French, and giving the occasional interview. It was good but it was all the same shit, over and over again, and he quickly found himself getting bored. He did get to see some friends, though, and after a chaotic sleepover, he found the CD. He unzipped his duffel, ready to sort out what clothes to toss into the hamper, when an album with a dark cover tumbled onto the floor.

Sid figured it was his friend’s and had fallen in his stuff in his rush to pack. He picked it up and winced. There was a long crack running through the front. For some reason, his eyes lingered on the cover. It had the words “Ode to the Dead” in a sharp red typeface hovering over a single drop of blood on a black background. He should probably check if the CD itself was okay too. He gingerly opened the case. The disc was unharmed but... Maybe he should check if it still played.

He still had a CD player in his room, so he hurried over and popped in the disc. He waited and then the music began.

Sid listened to the entire album. At some point, he sat down and started to sort through his clothes again, but he simply turned the volume up a little higher. There was something about the singer, who had a deep, resonant voice that he could throw into a roar or low hiss, that entranced Sid. Once the album was over, he flipped the case to examine the track listing and information. The band was rather uncreatively called The Draculi, but Sid didn’t feel put off. He stuck the CD back in the case and set the album aside, but took his laptop out. He wanted to learn more.

A Google search brought up the band’s discography and some links. Sid clicked on the first link and stared.

A long-limbed man wearing a low-necked, distressed black shirt was reclining on an elegant lounge. He had dark eyes with drooping lids and a red, pouting mouth that was slightly parted to show a hint of fang. Two other people slouched on the lounge with him, but Sid ignored them to read the caption:

“The Draculi have taken the alternative rock scene by storm with their new album, ‘Ode to the Dead.’ The album, according to Malkin, the lead singer, is about death and resurrection through blood. This is even more significant because Malkin swears he is a vampire...”

Sid had fallen easily but he had fallen hard. He quickly bought The Draculi’s album to listen to on his dinky iPod. Everything he had heard before paled in comparison to Malkin’s voice and the strange, seductive lyrics he sang.

Sid was terrified he would get shit for it, so he never admitted his obsession with The Draculi to anyone. Hockey players just didn’t do that shit. He knew how different he was from the lithe girls and boys who pressed themselves up against Malkin in all the grainy YouTube footage of The Draculi’s concerts. He was thick and short. The most emo clothing he had in his wardrobe was black t-shirts. There was also no way he was going to flatiron his curly hair into the sleek, sideswept locks that so many fellow fans had. But there were few things he loved almost as much as hockey, and Malkin had somehow wormed his way onto that list.

He furtively researched Malkin but had more questions than answers by the end of it. Entire forums argued over whether he really was a vampire or not, and fans would at one moment say it was true because all their concerts were at night, but in the next refute it because Malkin was spotted eating garlic bread. Malkin himself gave strange interviews where no matter the question, he responded with short, witty non-answers in heavily accented English. Sid would catch himself looking into Malkin’s gleaming, hooded eyes and exit out of his browser with burning cheeks.

He knew he was in too deep when The Draculi’s first music video came out. He saw the announcement on one of the many forums he frequented and spent the whole day in a daze. Luckily, he had some time to himself when his billet family left to visit some relatives for a couple of hours. He booted up his laptop and pulled up the music video.

Biting his lip, he held his breath as Malkin, bare-chested and pale, crawled his way out of a coffin. He had already heard the song many times before, but the formless feelings he harbored cleared up when he saw Malkin embrace a man. Sid unconsciously pressed a hand against the front of his shorts and then snapped it back when he realized he was halfway to a hard-on. Malkin gently tangled his fingers in the man’s hair and pulled his head to the side, forcing his neck to arch in a graceful curve. Sid watched, mouth gaping, while Malkin inched his head lower. He looked right into the camera when he pulled his lips back and sank his white, sharp fangs into the man’s neck.

Sid made a high-pitched noise and clapped his hand over his mouth, slapping the laptop shut at the same time. He had gone too far. He retreated to the bathroom to take a cold shower and unsuccessfully tried not to imagine how it would feel to be in Malkin’s arms, pressed against his mouth.

He hoped that he would lose interest, but The Draculi stuck with him from Rimouski all the way to Pittsburgh. More albums came out and Sid found himself buying each one and devotedly incorporating them into his routines. He fell asleep to Malkin’s low voice for his pre-game nap and woke up to his yells.

Yet for all of his devotion, Sid never made it out to their concerts. They would announce their tour dates and Sid would mark them down, open up the ticket site, and wait out the timer. Money was no object to him anymore so it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. He was just too afraid to go. For one, he had no one to go with, but more importantly, he had built Malkin up in his mind. Sid didn’t want to spoil the longing he had nurtured in his heart for years.

When he got his own place, he finally allowed himself one thing and bought a poster to put up in his bedroom. It was of Malkin, thumbing a drip of blood from his smirking mouth.

He immediately regretted it, of course, when he had his housewarming party and found Flower in his bedroom.

“Oh! What are you doing in here?” He casually crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. Flower was standing in front of the poster of Malkin with a thoughtful expression.

“Went looking for the bathroom and saw this. I don’t think he’s a vampire,” Flower said, tapping the poster, “but I hear he’s Bulgarian.”

Sid hoped his face didn’t reveal the sheer panic he was feeling at the possibility of being found out. He said blandly, “Oh yeah, for sure.”

Flower continued, “Wait, not Bulgarian. Transylvanian! Explains how homely the fucker is.” He turned to Sid, mouth twitching with a barely suppressed smile.

Outraged on behalf of Malkin, Sid couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. He didn’t want to reveal his entire deck of cards, but he had never been good at hiding things from Flower and it was too late.

“Actually, he’s Russian,” Sid said. He turned around and prayed to God that Flower wouldn’t pry further.

But fucking Flower asked, in a shit-eating, knowing voice, “Oh?”

It all went downhill from there, and Sid was forced to spill his entire sordid story to Flower over lunch. Flower listened, fascinated, only stopping Sid when he admitted he had never gone to a concert.

“So you’re telling me that you’re obsessed with this guy and you’ve never gone to see him sing?” Flower goggled at Sid, who sat stiff as a board.

“Yeah, I mean I don’t need to see him live to know how great he is,” Sid gritted out.

“Sid, you just told me that the first thing you did when you thought you recovered from your concussion was to play their entire discography from start to finish. At top volume.”

Sid groaned and put his head into his hands. He was never going to cop to anything again.

“Look, I’m not making fun of you! You clearly care a lot about them.” Flower patted his back. “I just think if you like him—I mean them—so much, you should see them.”

Sid straightened up and scowled. “Like I said, I don’t need to see them live. We’re too busy playing for me to see them anyways.”

Flower looked at him, eyebrow raised, and Sid took a dignified sip of water. He wasn’t some adoring teen. He was a fucking adult with a captaincy and he could restrain himself.

“Okay, man. You know best.” Flower shrugged, and Sid had believed the discussion was over then.

He was wrong because after a six-game losing streak, Flower came up to Sid’s locker with an envelope in his hand.

“What’s this?” Sid wiped the sweat from his face and stared blearily at Flower.

“Sid, I love you, but you’re so tense that it’s driving everyone crazy,” he said bluntly.

Sid flinched and lowered his eyes. He knew he could push hard, but he just cared so much, and the C was a lot to live up to. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Flower held up his hand.

“I get it, I do, but we all just want you to relax and take care of yourself. That’s what this is for.” Flower waved the envelope and stuck it into Sid’s hand.

“Uhhh what is it?”

Flower leaned in, waggling his eyebrows. “Ticket to The Draculi.”

Sid flushed and looked around to ensure no one had heard. “ _Flower_ , I said I didn’t need this. I can’t afford distractions right now. ”

Flower folded Sid’s fingers over the envelope and patted it, “Sid, go. I think it’ll do you some good. Do it or I’ll… surprise you.”

“Surprise me? What does that mean?” Sid tried to shove the envelope back at him but Flower winked and walked back to his stall. He asked more loudly, “Flower, what does that mean?”

Flower looked Sid dead in the eye and pointedly snapped his towel, accidentally hitting Tanger in the process and making him screech in anger. They started squabbling and Sid was left with no answers.

Frustrated, he pushed the envelope to the bottom of his jacket pocket and ignored it until he got home. Once he was safely within his bedroom walls, he sat on his bed and set the ticket in front of him. The concert date was a week from now, on an off day.

He shot a text to Flower, **What did you mean by “surprise me?”**

The typing bubble popped up and Flower finally replied, **Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you!**

Sid scrubbed his hand through his hair and furiously typed back, **I’m glad you’re thinking of me, but it’s irresponsible for me to go to a concert right now.** He was about to press send but thought it over more and added, **I haven’t done anything to deserve it. Now please tell me what the surprise is.**

Flower sent him several emojis rolling their eyes and said, **Sid, because you’re my friend and my captain, let me put it this way: not going will mean you’ll have to start looking for a jock replacement. Don’t overthink it and just go.**

In the days preceding the show, Sid hid his jock and tried to convince Flower of how bad of an idea the concert was. He argued that he wasn’t generating the plays he wanted and his time would be better spent reviewing tape and familiarizing himself with his revolving door of linemates.

He didn’t add that it flustered him to imagine seeing Malkin in his full glory. He was used to pouring his emotions into hockey, something tangible, not into someone who had no idea of his existence and was larger-than-life to him. He could have Malkin without any complications if he just stayed home and listened to him like he usually did through his earphones.

Flower brushed off each of his attempts and would, to Sid’s horror, find his jock each time and ominously leave a pair of scissors next to it. So with a stomach full of dread, Sid drove himself to the venue and ended up standing front and center before the stage.

Objectively, Sid knew how strange he looked. The venue was crowded with teens wearing precisely placed studded belts and bright jeans. There were even people in velvet vests. Sid, hunched up in his nicest sweater and worn baseball cap, stuck out like a sore thumb. No one had recognized him yet, but he already had a firm response for any questions that may come his way. He’d put on his best media smile and say, “Oh, just figured I’d try something new,” and not at all let on that he had a raging heart full of feelings for Malkin.

The lights began to darken and Sid eyed the stage. Fog curled out beneath the shut curtains and a bass line thrummed. The crowd around him, chattering before, quieted. A single red spotlight hit the curtains and they slowly parted.

“Oh, fuck,” Sid muttered.

The red light landed on a tall, caped figure. They stood, still as a statue, when with a great clashing of drums and cymbals, they flung their cape open.

The audience screamed and chanted but Sid remained silent. Malkin, cape flapping behind him and wearing a fishnet shirt and leather pants, stalked to the microphone at center stage. He swung the mic out of its stand and grinned.

“Hey everyone! You ready?” Malkin yelled.

No, no he wasn’t. He never would be. Sid tried to breathe slowly and just take Malkin in.

Malkin paused and cocked his head, as if he was searching for something, then with unerring precision, looked directly into Sid’s eyes. There was no way he could single him out; Sid was just one person in a massive crowd. Sid ducked and peered out from under his hat brim. He reddened when Malkin smiled crookedly and looked away into the audience.

“Thank you for coming. You won’t regret this night.”

Sid shivered and stuck his hands in his pockets to ground himself. Malkin started to hum in to the mic and the rest of the band joined in. The voice Sid had only heard over his earphones washed over him, and Sid closed his eyes.

* * *

These days, Zhenya went by Malkin to most people. Geno to one person. It wasn’t the most unusual thing to happen to him considering that he was made undead two hundred years ago, but it was yet another thing to add to his long, long list of shit to get used to in the 21st century. No one who knew his original name was around anymore and he had grown familiar with that loneliness.

Case in point, he had chosen to go into an extended slumber nearly a century ago. All of the wars and clamoring of new machinery were starting to chafe him and he thought if he took a nice, long nap, he’d wake up in a better place. He sat down Nathaniel, his familiar, and informed him of his plan. Nathaniel initially wept and Zhenya had to pat and coax him into helping him dig a hole and find a comfortable coffin.

“Master, are you sure?” Nathaniel sniffled and clung to Zhenya’s hand. Zhenya, already halfway into his silk-lined coffin, sighed and turned to gruffly hug him.

“I’ve done before, Nathaniel. Now be good and close the lid.” Zhenya squeezed him gently and let go. He settled into the coffin and crossed his arms on his chest. The last thing he saw before the door shut was Nathaniel’s deliciously red, tearful face. Ah, he would miss drinking from that one. He shut his eyes and listened to Nathaniel cry as he dumped dirt on top of him.

The world turned and grew while Zhenya lay still as a statue. He slid in and out of memories where he was still a brash youth, a clumsy human who longed for something more than his family farm. He’d certainly gotten more the night he was turned by a wandering vampire disguised as a visiting lord. Zhenya twitched at the memory of his death. His maker had lured him with the promise of good wine and a warm bed and trapped him. He had thrashed helplessly in his arms and clung limply to him when he had nothing left to give him. His maker dripped his own blood into Zhenya’s mouth and laid him to rest in the dirt of his family farm. Zhenya had been dead for hours when he woke up, needlessly gasping for breath and getting a mouthful of dirt for his troubles. He was terrified and had to dig himself out. His maker sat on a rock nearby and made no move to assist him.

Once Zhenya was fully out of the ground, the vampire introduced himself as Alexei and explained his situation. Zhenya’s eyes grew round in disbelief and he interrupted him when he could bear it no longer.

“Why did you do this to me?” He cried big, bloody tears.

His maker looked at him and with no remorse in his eyes, shrugged and said, “Because I could.”

Zhenya couldn’t believe his cruelty then, but as the years passed, he saw how easy it was. It was how he had survived so long and how he would continue to exist in the centuries to come.

The memory of his maker’s blood made him realize how dry his mouth was. After all this time, Zhenya knew how to control himself, so he shoved his hunger to the side and thought of his past conquests. It grew more difficult, however, the more people he heard pass overhead. He could sense the rich blood pulsing through their veins, and his fangs started to poke at his bottom lip. He could no longer tell how much time had passed; it could have been ten years or it could have been a century. So with a scowl, he resigned himself to finally waking up and leaving his coffin.

He punched through the door with a grunt and clawed his way through the dirt. His fingers tore through turf and he heard someone scream. Zhenya poked his head out and squinted to see a young man scream again and fall on his ass. He licked his lips. Guess he had found his first meal.

Once he had taken his fill, he let the stranger recover and prodded him to answer his questions. His bite made people more amenable to him and it was easy to make them bow to his will. The stranger’s name was James Neal. He was the graveyard security guard but he also moonlighted as a guitarist for a band.

“But what year is it?” Zhenya asked, impatient.

“Oh uh, 2003.” James produced a silvery rectangle from his pocket (“It’s a cellphone.”) and showed it to Zhenya. Zhenya saw that there were numbers on it but could make neither head nor tails of it.

He shoved it back at James and said, imperiously, “Take me to your abode.”

James retrieved it but looked mildly affronted. “Dude, I don’t even know your name.”

Zhenya narrowed his eyes but conceded, “Fine. You may call me Evgeni.” He figured he owed James that much.

“Yev-evgenny? Yevgen-Oh God.” James tried and gave up, “How about I just call you Geno? Geno sounds good.”

“You like if I call you something stupid also?” Zhenya huffed. “What if I call you _Nealsy_?”

“I mean, go ahead.” Nealsy shrugged and got up, “C’mon, my shift’s almost over anyways.”

And so for the next three months, Zhenya stayed at Nealsy’s place, catching up with the world and being a nuisance. Nealsy grumped and whined but didn’t seem to really mind, especially after Zhenya drank from him two more times. Zhenya slept in the basement, clasping his saint’s medal and vial of home soil.

Nealsy adjusted his life to rooming with a 200-year-old vampire, but he would still leave every Saturday night to go play with his band. Zhenya was curious and truthfully, he was bored. He made Nealsy take him to his concerts and was instantly fascinated. He himself could sing and play the harpsichord and piano. An idea began to turn in his mind. After a particularly grueling set, where the vocalist stomped off and the bassist threw his hands up in despair, Zhenya took Nealsy aside.

“Have a plan, Nealsy. Will make band better.”

“What are you talking about?” Nealsy looked at him wearily and shouldered him aside.

Zhenya grinned and sidled off after the vocalist. He had a vision of this band with him in it and, well, not everyone could come along.

Within weeks, he took over the band and renamed them The Draculi. Nealsy complained, but quickly fell in line once he heard Zhenya sing. Zhenya had sung for kings and queens and played for courts. He knew what he was doing even if he still didn’t know how to operate a computer.

The Draculi quickly grew famous and Zhenya relished every bit of attention. He was sick of the apathy that came with immortality, and fame brought so many distractions. Zhenya carelessly spoke about his vampirism, because why not? It was the 21st century. People threw themselves at him and he could wear whatever he wanted. Nealsy rolled his eyes whenever Zhenya put on his silk shirts and took multiple people home, but for the most part listened to Zhenya and left him to his own devices.

To Zhenya, the best part of it all was touring. He had whooped and caught Nealsy up in a hug when their agent told them they had their first national circuit. He would scream himself hoarse every night and wake up somewhere new the next evening. Nealsy had fretted about his safety, but Zhenya knew his limits. The sun no longer burned him, but its rays left stinging, itchy patches. He didn’t need much blood and willing fans provided it. He was only vulnerable when he slept, because he truly was like the dead, but by that time Nealsy was up and able to watch over him. Zhenya grudgingly admitted that they had become more than master and familiar. They were friends.

Which was why when they hit Pittsburgh, Zhenya relented to Nealsy’s complaining about being too tired to keep playing week after week.

“Fine. It will be last stop for a while.” He noogied Nealsy and shoved him away when he started squawking about his hair.

Zhenya wanted to make this concert extra special, so he wore his tightest pants and tied a cape around his shoulders. Nealsy groaned when he saw him but scurried off to his place on the stage when Zhenya threateningly moved a hand towards his hair. Zhenya stood where the light would hit him and closed his eyes, letting his senses take their fill. It smelled like any other venue: sweaty and overused. There were so many excited heartbeats. He took a deeper sniff and caught something rich and heady. His mouth began to water and he resisted the urge to follow the scent. Zhenya pulled the cape over his face and willed himself to stand tall and wait for the curtain to part.

The curtains opened and the light shone on him. He waited a beat and threw off his cape to the adulation of the crowd. Zhenya crossed the stage to the mic and looked down at the crowd. He smelled the same aroma again and searched the audience. The scent was so distinct that he quickly found its source.

A stocky man wearing a cap gawked back at him. He looked nothing like the fans Zhenya usually saw. Zhenya swept his eyes over the curve of his jaw and his muscled legs. The man noticed and blushed furiously. Delicious.

He heard Nealsy cough and felt his glare so he smiled into the mic. Zhenya began to sing but his mind wandered. He wanted to know that man and judging by his reaction, he seemed like he wanted to know Zhenya too.

* * *

Sid had only felt this kind of elation three times before. The first time was when he first got to hold Taylor. The second, when the Penguins drafted him. The third, when he won the Cup in 2009. He hated that Flower was right but it was hard to remember that when Malkin was in front of him and singing his heart out.

Sid couldn’t help but feel as though every lyric Malkin sang was directed towards him. His chest felt too full and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the spectacle ahead of him. He thought Malkin looked at him more than once, but Sid dismissed it as his delusional mind trying to actualize his deepest fantasies. When Malkin had run through his set, Sid was among the audience to clap for an encore.

Malkin, somehow still pristine, beamed and looked back at his band for permission. His guitarist shrugged and Malkin shook in a full-bodied laugh. Sid smiled too and accidentally caught Malkin’s eye. Malkin gave him the same piercing look from the beginning of the concert. Sid didn’t know what to do so he just looked steadily back. Malkin’s eyes softened after a moment and he leaned in to speak into the mic.

“Not sing this before to all of you, but it is a new song. For a special someone.”

The crowd screamed and jostled Sid, who was trying very hard to breathe like a regular human being. This was way better than he could have ever imagined. Malkin swayed and crooned into the mic as if it were a close lover. Sid could have stood, rooted to the same spot, and listened to him forever. Malkin’s songs weren’t always angry but this seemed special, slow and bittersweet. Sid wished the song were for him and abruptly felt embarrassed. When the song was over, it felt too soon.

Malkin bowed and blew kisses to the crowd. Along with the rest of the band, he turned and disappeared behind the curtain. Sid tried to not be disappointed. He had definitely imagined Malkin looking at him, because why would he? He shoved his hat more firmly on his head and left with the crowd. He at least had the memories of Malkin singing live, right before him. Sid hummed a bit of his song as he walked to his car.

He pulled out his keys and bobbed his head in time with his humming. He would head home, watch some tape, and be ready for practice the next day. He guessed he had to thank Flower as well.

When Sid opened his car door, he heard someone clear their throat. Furrowing his brow, he turned around. Malkin stood across from him, tongue sticking out like a mischievous child.

Sid yelped and dropped his keys. In a flash, Malkin swooped in and picked them up. He held them in his large hands and laughed, making Sid flush.

“Notice you. You from around here?”

It took a while for Sid to respond, but once he could, he said, “Maybe, why are you asking?” He winced. He could have said something impressive, something bold, but here he was, just being plain old Sid. He realized his palms were sweating and surreptitiously wiped them on his thighs.

Malkin handed Sid his keys and said, “Was wondering if you wanted to go for drink?”

Sid clutched his keys like a lifeline and gaped at him. He had to be hallucinating, because in what world would Malkin, the same person who supposedly had threesomes and thought eyeliner and lace were casualwear, deign to invite Sid to drink together?

“Uh, what for? Don’t you have a party or somewhere else to go to?” Sid tried to keep his voice steady, but it pitched up at the end unconvincingly. He had faced off against fans screaming for his blood and players who made it their job to shut him down, but somehow this would be his undoing.

Malkin shrugged and looked at him slyly, knowingly, like he already knew that Sid couldn’t get enough of him and was just waiting for Sid to prove it. “Not have to come, but saw you in crowd. Look like you know how to have a good time.”

Sid was so surprised he laughed and had to cover his mouth. Malkin looked a bit affronted but he waited for Sid to calm down.

“I’m sure you know how to have a good time better than I do.” Sid knew he was smiling like an idiot but couldn’t stop. “I’m pretty boring.”

Malkin then shamelessly looked at him from head to toe, even exaggerating his neck movements. Sid colored and reflexively reached out to smack him, stopping himself in the nick of time. Malkin chuckled and said, eyes gleaming, “I want you though.”

Sid was sure his eyes were bugging out unattractively, but he looked at Malkin. Hair tousled, pale, and wrapped up in a black coat, he resembled a strange, yet beautiful marble statue. He looked untouchable. Sid knew you didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but he didn’t want to disappoint Malkin and secretly, he didn’t want Malkin to disappoint him. He had met enough of his heroes over the years, but Malkin was just different. He knew he was special the first time he heard his voice.

Malkin must have sensed Sid’s inner turmoil because he approached him slowly, like you would a skittish cat, and briefly grazed his neck with one finger. Sid froze, unsure of what this meant.

Malkin said, kindly, “No pressure. Just want to get to know you.”

Sid had a little voice in the back of his head that always piped up to warn him of a bad idea. He unfailingly obeyed that voice because it was smart. It made him boring, yet it had kept him safe for years. But Malkin’s assurance made him glow from the inside, and so he pushed the voice aside for once. Malkin wanted to know _Sid_ of all people. And Sid, well, he really did wish to bridge their one-sided connection. Probably more than he cared to confess. Flower had told him to relax and Malkin, the person Sid had wanted before he knew what it meant to really want something, was right here. How could he deny him?

So Sid squared his shoulders and said, “I would like to have a drink.” He did his best to maintain eye contact to project some form of confidence.

Malkin smiled, big and crooked. “Good, take me somewhere.”

Sid couldn’t get in the car fast enough, but on the drive over, he started to have a quiet meltdown. His biggest crush was right next to him. Was he supposed to make conversation? He could talk ask about something inane or talk about hockey, hockey was reliable.

Malkin had squeezed himself into the passenger seat and Sid couldn’t ignore how tall he was. He loomed without even moving. Sid restlessly tapped his hand on the center console and when Malkin’s elbow brushed his pinkie, he jumped.

Malkin laughed. “Don’t worry, not bite you.”

Sid hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt but Malkin’s smile grew wider and he reached over to brush one finger against Sid’s cheek.

“Unless you want,” he said in a low voice.

Sid slammed hard against the brakes and laughed wildly. “Oh, would you look at that? We’re here!”

* * *

Zhenya knew how much of a bully he could be, but he was going to new heights tonight. The man had chosen to sit in a booth and while he sat on the other side, Zhenya pressed his leg against him underneath the table. He liked to watch him blush and he stuttered as he gave his drink order to their waiter.

“What your name?” Zhenya asked.

The man hesitated, scrunching the paper wrapper of a straw, before answering, “Sid.”

“Sid…” Zhenya sat back and considered him, especially his full, pink lips and . “Can call me Zhenya.”

Sid blinked and mouthed out the sounds several times. Then he asked, “Zhenya, is that your real name?”

Zhenya raised an eyebrow and Sid began to apologize. Zhenya waved it off. “Is name I want you to call me. Have not heard in a long time.”

They sat in silence and Zhenya simply watched Sid. Fans were usually very easy to please and Sid was no different in that regard, but he liked how eager Sid was. He seemed like he wanted to prove something to Zhenya. Sid would open his mouth, as if to start a sentence, stop, and then wrinkle his brow, discarding whatever phrase he had. This went on for a while and Zhenya made no motion to ease him. He heard Sid’s heartbeat speed up until he finally blurted out, “Are you really a vampire?”

Zhenya snorted and Sid looked like he was about to combust from embarrassment. Zhenya teased him, just a bit more, “Have me alone and is first question you want to ask?”

Sid raised his shoulders and peevishly sipped his drink. Once he was done, he said, “Well, vampires aren’t real, right?” He waited for Zhenya to confirm and when he was silent, asked again, uncertain, “Right?”

Zhenya had said the truth so many times and, fed up with endlessly repeating it, decided to try a different tactic. “Know my answer but what do you think?”

Sid hemmed and hawed and Zhenya tapped his finger against the table. However the night ended, he was going to drink from Sid by the end of it. This was all just extra.

Sid started out diplomatically enough. “I’m no expert, but everyone’s entitled to their opinions, and stories are based on some sort of truth.” He paused then, gauging Zhenya, who made no attempt at hiding how unimpressed he was, and then continued, with the honesty of the earnest and flustered, “But I’d like to believe. I thought it was a joke at first, but I’ve liked you since I was sixteen and I can’t see you as anything else. You’re so amazing that I--” He stopped there, reddening, and shut himself up by taking a large gulp from his drink.

Zhenya tracked the blush blooming on Sid’s cheeks and all the way down his neck. None of this was new to him, the admiration and the seduction, but he relished Sid’s honesty and his eagerness to please. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that it made him feel young again, but it amused him.

Zhenya tilted his head back and thought about how easy it would be to manipulate Sid. He could sit with him, spinning more questions and drawing him closer and closer. They would leave together after and on the way to Sid’s car, Zhenya would stop him and take him into an alleyway, and ask if he could kiss him just once. When Sid said yes, he would kiss him chastely and hold the nape of his neck, just breathing in his scent. Then he would feast and leave him in the dust.

But when Zhenya tilted his head back down, he saw Sid’s face. His cheeks were still red and he was biting his lip, hazel eyes oh so wide and expectant. It charmed him. He wanted to keep that expression on Sid’s face for just a little longer.

So instead, Zhenya flashed his most devastating smile and said, “How about if I show you?”

* * *

Sid had to keep pinching himself to remember that this all wasn’t a surreal dream. He looked at Zhenya and did it again, just to make sure. After his question, Sid had stammered, “Oh, sure,” and Zhenya hustled him out of the bar. He gave Sid an address that led to a fancy hotel. He grasped Sid’s hand to guide him to his room and Sid hoped Zhenya didn’t notice how sweaty he was.

Before they got into the elevator, Zhenya let go of his hand and suddenly looked at him with a stern expression. “Sure you are okay with this?”

Sid barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes and entered the elevator. “Yes, I’m fine. You can ‘suck my blood.’” He made air quotes.

Zhenya hummed and punched the button to his floor. He draped an arm around Sid and brought his lips close to his ear, “Just want to ask one last time.” Sid shuddered at feeling his voice so intimately and looked rigidly ahead until they arrived. Zhenya kept his arm around him even when they were in front of his room but lightly pushed him in once the door was open.

Sid stood awkwardly at the center of the room and Zhenya let him while he took off his own coat and rolled up his sleeves. He sat on the bed and gestured for Sid to come closer. When Sid was in arm’s reach, he tugged him until he stood between his legs. He held Sid’s face between his enormous, cold hands and examined him.

“Can kiss?” Zhenya caressed his cheek. Sid nodded and closed his eyes. He couldn’t seem to find his voice.

He heard the rustle of bedsheets as Zhenya moved near. Zhenya pressed his lips against Sid’s once, then twice. Sid sighed and then realized Zhenya wasn’t breathing at all. But he gripped Zhenya’s shoulders and opened his mouth to him. Zhenya grew more eager, mouth lush and pliable. Sid pulled back to gather himself and Zhenya watched him with shining eyes.

“Take clothes off?” He traced the skin beneath Sid’s shirt and Sid’s breath caught. He let Zhenya continue to touch him as he quickly stripped himself down to his underwear. Zhenya cast an admiring eye and squeezed his ass, making Sid stumble and curse.

“Come on bed,” he commanded, and pulled Sid down. Sid was half-hard already and struggled to gracefully arrange himself. He didn’t want to look like even more of a fool than he already was. Zhenya impatiently took off the rest of his own clothes and returned to kissing the life out of Sid. Their bodies slid against each other and Sid trembled, both at the sensation and at Zhenya’s chill skin. He tried to wrap his legs around Zhenya’s waist and grind up, but Zhenya stopped him.

“Okay if I bite?” Zhenya held Sid’s thigh and waggled his eyebrows.

Sid frowned and thumped him in the side with his heel. “Get on with it.” He grunted and pointedly pushed his hips. Zhenya huffed out a laugh and laid an obnoxiously wet kiss on him, making Sid swear. He set Sid’s legs firmly on the bed and wriggled his lanky body between them.

Sid propped himself up on his elbows and looked at him questioningly. Zhenya patted his stomach and then parted his thighs even further. He looked up at Sid and glanced his finger against the soft, inner part of his thigh.

“Here?”

Sid still couldn’t seem to find his voice and he wondered if this was all a game. Zhenya’s eyes were serious, though, so Sid, with some trepidation, nodded.

Zhenya smiled and stroked Sid’s calf. “Okay. Thank you, Sid.”

He bent his head and nuzzled Sid’s thigh. Sid squirmed and his chest heaved with anticipation. He stared at Zhenya’s lips, so close but so far from where he wanted them to be. He wasn’t a vulgar guy, but those were dick-sucking lips if he’d ever seen them. Zhenya gripped his knee and draped his other arm across Sid’s hips. He licked his lips and gave a close-mouthed kiss to the same spot again. His eyes were predatory and Sid shivered. He felt like a small, trapped animal.

“C’mon, Zhen-“

Before he could finish his sentence, Zhenya opened his mouth and bit into the meat of Sid’s thigh. Sid jerked, but Zhenya’s arm was like a bar of iron, holding him in place. He could only tremble and curl his hands into the bedsheets. Zhenya’s mouth was so wet and he was taking long, deep pulls from Sid. It should have been painful, but Sid felt warm, like he was slowly sinking into a bath. Zhenya moaned then and restlessly swept his hand up and down Sid’s leg. He stopped at Sid’s hips and began to massage his erection through his underwear. Sid’s mouth fell open, it all felt too good.

“Oh my god,” he slurred and Zhenya hummed into his thigh, “can’t believe you were serious.”

Zhenya retracted his fangs and licked his red, red lips. He steadied himself against Sid’s chest and kissed him again, thoroughly and deeply. Sid tried to move but it felt like he was swimming through molasses. He clung to Zhenya and whimpered, “Again.”

Zhenya made a shocked noise and Sid gripped him as hard as he could.

“Please.” He nudged his face into Zhenya’s neck and bit him with his blunt teeth. Zhenya twitched and then wrenched himself away. It was eerie that in spite of all of his effort, his chest remained still and dry to the touch. Sid, by comparison, was sure he had sweated through the sheets while wheezing like an exhausted racehorse. These thoughts vanished when Zhenya threaded his fingers through Sid’s curls and yanked his head to the side.

“Only one more time,” he asserted, but shook Sid’s head playfully. Sid just sighed and pulled him close. His thigh twinged, but the pain was nothing in the face of his desire for Zhenya to drink from him again.

“Please,” he repeated.

Zhenya groaned and Sid saw his fangs flash in the dim light before he felt their prick in his neck. He cried out and curled his hands around Zhenya’s ass, dragging him impossibly closer. Sid ground his dick into the jut of Zhenya’s hip and felt hot blood trailing down his thigh and neck.

He didn’t care and let Zhenya take his fill. He recalled the music video and how ashamed he had been at his response. But here he was now, brazenly enjoying Zhenya’s bite, and he helplessly giggled into Zhenya’s hair. Zhenya withdrew and rubbed his thumb on Sid’s neck, brows scrunched up in concern.

“Feeling okay?” He checked Sid’s neck and thigh and peered at him.

Sid did feel a little light-headed, but he could still move and he wanted Zhenya to never stop touching him. “Mhm. Feeling great.” Sid hooked his leg around Zhenya’s waist, and let him but still looked uneasy. “‘M fine, just thinking about your dumb video. Would feel better if you fucked me though.”

Zhenya looked less concerned now and more amused. He reached down and thumbed the head of Sid’s cock through his underwear, making him arch.

“Will do whatever you ask,” Zhenya murmured.

* * *

Sid tasted even better than he could have imagined. Blood wasn’t really comparable to human food, but to Zhenya’s tongue, Sid was sweet and full-bodied. He could drink from him over and over again and watch as his lashes fluttered and mouth parted in slack pleasure.

Right now, though, he was intent on making sure Sid stayed satisfied. Sid was so easy for him that he knew it wouldn’t be difficult, but he selfishly wanted to ruin him for everyone else. Zhenya would always have another person to fuck, to drink from, but he wanted Sid to never forget him.

With no prompting, Sid had wriggled out of his underwear, revealing his fully erect cock, and flopped on his stomach. Zhenya brought out the lube he kept with him and squeezed some of it into one hand. He gripped one of Sid’s asscheeks and Sid spread his legs wider. He pushed back against Zhenya’s hand. Zhenya slid one finger between his cheeks and smeared the slick around his hole. He waited for Sid’s breathing to slow and then pressed inward, testing the give. Sid rubbed his face into the pillows and squirmed. Zhenya waited a beat, and slid in further.

It was slow, but Zhenya liked watching all of Sid’s little reactions. He would hitch his hips and breathily moan. Once he was able to add in another finger, he curled them, searching for Sid’s prostate. He knew he found it when Sid cried out and ground his hips down. Zhenya switched between gently scissoring his fingers and bumping them against it. Sid whined when he added a third, so he soothed him by kneading his lower back. At this point, Sid’s back was curving harshly and he was gasping wetly into his folded arms.

“Feel good?” Zhenya teased. Sid turned around and glared at him with teary eyes. With the bruises Zhenya had left on his neck, he looked like an exquisite mess.

“Cut the shit and get in me,” he hissed, and flopped back down.

Zhenya laughed and dragged his fingers out to slick his cock. He gripped his cock with one hand and held Sid open with the other. He rubbed the head of his dick against Sid’s hole, slipping the tip in and out slowly. Sid writhed and when he reached back, Zhenya slid in. Sid’s hand groped at Zhenya’s hip as he entered, unhurried but inexorable. When his hips met Sid’s ass, Sid moaned and arched.

He was so tight that it took every ounce of control Zhenya had to not immediately fuck into him. His fangs had come out in the process, so he bit down into his lip and tried to thrust slowly. Sid didn’t move at first, seemingly content to just luxuriate, but when Zhenya didn’t go any faster, he rolled his hips back. Zhenya dropped his head and fell onto his hands, curving over Sid. His hips helplessly jerked and he could hear Sid try to stifle his laughter.

Zhenya grinned into Sid’s shoulder and reared back. Sid made a noise of protest but Zhenya, determined, wrapped an arm around his chest and hauled him up, spreading Sid’s thighs over Zhenya’s lap. Zhenya loved how thick but flexible he was, so he hooked his chin over his shoulder to watch Sid’s muscles ripple. He pulled him back on his cock and Sid dropped his head back onto Zhenya’s shoulder and moaned. Zhenya guided him into a filthy grind and slammed his hips up.

Sid was making high noises and half sentences, but he managed to hiccup out, “Wanna come, please please.”

Zhenya held him more tightly and bounced Sid on his cock, heightening his cries.

“Can come whenever you want,” he crooned, and wrapped Sid’s hand around his own dick, which was so flushed and wet that Zhenya longed to suck it.

Sid, overwhelmed, rubbed his face into Zhenya’s neck and made little, “ah, ah,” sounds as he fucked into his hand and then back down onto Zhenya’s dick. He couldn’t seem to choose which sensation he liked better and to compensate, he jerked faster. Zhenya moved his arm from Sid’s chest and dug his fingers into Sid’s hips, angling them and thrusting hard but precisely.

Sid keened and shook, hand stripping his dick. He seemed to be struggling to come and tightened up. Zhenya, mindless from Sid’s clenching hole, bit down into Sid’s neck again. He didn’t want to feed for long and drain Sid, so he viciously shook him and let go, allowing blood to spurt past his lips. He felt victorious when Sid gasped and grew rigid. With one last thrust into his fist, he came messily over his hand and stomach. He slumped back and Zhenya thrust in him only three more times before pulling out and coming on the curve of his ass.

Sid fell onto the bed and stayed there, trembling. Zhenya, not too steady himself, turned him over to check on him. His eyes were closed and he was panting, but he was also smiling contentedly.

Zhenya felt relieved at first and smiled back. Then he caught himself and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, smudging blood across his cheek. He wasn’t some infatuated youth, no matter how good Sid felt. Sid didn’t seem to notice or if he did, didn’t care. He opened his arms to Zhenya and made petulant sounds until Zhenya relented and loosely embraced him.

Sid, quiet for a long time, finally said in a rough voice, “Y’know, I dreamed about this, but I never thought it would happen.”

Zhenya swiveled his head around to face him and Sid’s eyes were open, soft and thoughtful.

“Everything you imagined?” Zhenya joked, and suddenly powerless to Sid’s devotion, snuggled his cheek against Sid’s, which made him squirm and swat at him.

“Well, no. I didn’t imagine you would try and pick me up. Super classy,” he said dryly, and Zhenya nipped the tip of his nose. Sid rubbed his nose and looked at him reproachfully.

“What I’m supposed to do? Turn into bat and come knock on your window at night to ask you out?” Zhenya complained.

Sid sat up and stared at him. “Can you?”

Zhenya pouted. “Am not party trick, _Sid_. But yes, can turn into many animals. Wolf, cat, bat.”

Sid carefully lay on his chest and muttered, “Well, I wouldn’t mind a date.”

Zhenya gathered him up in his arms and tenderly kissed him. He liked holding Sid and he admitted that it pleased him to grant Sid’s little wishes and make him feel good. He radiated heat and smelled like he was well-fucked.

Sid made out with him for a while and then mumbled against his lips, “Can I see you again?”

Zhenya rested his forehead against Sid’s and gazed into his eyes. Sid looked back, steadily, and waited. Zhenya had believed this would just be a one night stand, but something about Sid’s flushed, hopeful face held him. He had no one else in his life and Sid was warm and enticing, in more ways than one. Zhenya realized that in spite of his many conquests, he was lonely, and Sid’s earnestness was addicting. He didn’t understand what he had done to earn such wholehearted passion from Sid, who was so young, but he wanted it to never end. For now.

He bussed his lips against Sid’s brow and said, “Yes, will see you again.”

Sid smiled and curled into him. Zhenya stroked his hand through his hair and closed his eyes, listening to his steady heartbeat.

But Sid sat up again, frowning. “Wait, what’ll you do while I sleep?”

Wasn’t it obvious? Zhenya answered, “Watch you? Play with phone? Can’t sleep til sunup.”

Sid looked distinctly unimpressed and disentangled himself, avoiding Zhenya’s grasping hands. “What if I drool? What if I say something weird?”

“Sid, come back, stay, I’ll be awake tomorrow night,” Zhenya pleaded.

Sid frowned and shook his head. He wiped himself down using Zhenya’s discarded shirt and started to get dressed despite Zhenya’s protests.

“It’s creepy. I need to wake up for practice anyways so I’ll just give you my number.” He gestured for Zhenya’s phone and when he handed it over, punched in his number.

“Sid. Come back.” Zhenya sulked and gripped his arm. Sid sighed and kissed his cheek in apology.

“Sorry, Zhenya, I’ll text you,” he promised, and with that, left Zhenya alone in his bed.

Zhenya swaddled himself in his blankets and moped. He wanted Sid to be next to him when he woke up. Sure, his slumbering, cold body would be unnerving at first, but Sid could get used to it. He was so lovely. Zhenya missed his warmth already.

His phone suddenly buzzed and Zhenya squinted at it. A message from Sid popped up.

**Will see you tmrw after practice. Don’t miss me too much.**

Zhenya crowed in victory and threw the sheets off to type back: **Best. What practice? Will find you**

Sid responded rather quickly: **Hockey practice but what do you mean?? Find me??**

**Can smell you. Know where you are!** Zhenya smiled and relaxed into his pillows.

**Please don’t** , Sid replied. **Just text me where you are and we can meet up.**

**Ok.** Zhenya carefully selected a black heart and Dracula emoji and sent it along with his message. Nealsy had solemnly told him how much people loved emojis and he figured Sid would be the same.

Zhenya waited for a while when Sid sent one final message: **Good night** with three pink hearts. Zhenya grinned and tucked his phone close to his chest. He was already imagining the look on Sid’s face when Zhenya met him in his fanciest silk shirt and presented him with a bouquet of red roses. He would love it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, if you can't tell, this fic is an ode to vampires and emo music. I have piles of vampire media that I enjoy but I particularly recommend "What We Do in the Shadows" if you want the same strain of dark goofiness I put in this fic.
> 
> If you want a visual representation of how effing theatrical vampire!Geno is, he actually dressed up as a vampire for Halloween: [like](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jqmZfu9BiEU/VEUwq-ySmII/AAAAAAAAAeg/n8b0d0BM8Qg/s1600/vampire%2Bgeno.jpg) [c'mon](http://www.rantsports.com/nhl/files/2014/10/kiss11.jpg). Also this [pic](https://78.media.tumblr.com/0b1f9b25d12d5e322b0363ff5e1490f8/tumblr_mrgxlxTe271r47cz8o1_500.jpg) of Sid also just spoke to the baby emo in me.
> 
> Tell me your thoughts! Whether on here or on my [tumblr](https://byulzgalov.tumblr.com/). I think I might make this part of a series.


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